Denial: Shipping Madness
by The Famous Fire Lady M
Summary: 1 x 7 A day in the life of 8. Watch as he learns new words, unwittingly prevents some hot stitchpunk lovin', tests 2's new invention and somehow manages to get 1 and 7 together.
1. 8

"8!" 1 barked. Good creator, where was that corpulent imbecile when you needed him most? "8, you slovenly fool, get here at once!" He bellowed, his hands curling into tight fists.

The larger stitchpunk marched into view. "What?"

He waved his staff. "Don't bother talking with your monosyllabic idle chatter." He leaned forward on his staff, his hands at the start of the curve.

"Fetch me that damned girl."

8, being as stupid as he was, knew who his boss was telling him to find, surprisingly enough, and he set out to bring 7 to him, not bothering to find out why. He had no idea where in the cathedral she was, but he had an idea. He was humming to himself Dies Irae; that song 6 would always hum, and wondering to himself what in the Creator's name 'monosyllabic' meant and if he should ask one of the others along the way.

He found her in 2's workshop. 9 and 5, who had become nearly inseparable since he and 7 brought the others back, were finishing patching up a nasty rip along her leg. No sign of 2 though.

"7.. 1 wants you." he said, shuffling awkwardly. She looked up at him pointedly. "Tell me something I don't know. I know he wants me. He tells me so every time he catches me alone." She didn't sound disgusted as she knew she should have but instead sounded.. Happy? She didn't think anyone else caught the happy note in her voice.

"N-no…" 8 was stuttering. This 'no-longer-a-bully' business was harder than it looked. "I mean, 1 wants to see you in the throne room."

"Oh." She still regarded him suspiciously. "He didn't happen to tell you why?" The larger stitchpunk shook his head. "No idea."

She swore under her breath and slid off the table, her leg only mostly finished. She pushed past 8, walking with a slight limp.

8 turned to 9 and 5 who were looking at each other, as if distracted.

"Do either of you guys know what mon-mono-monosyllabic means?" He asked them. 5 looked over at him and replied, sounding a little distracted as he played with 9's zipper absently. "I don't know. Go ask the twins."

8 nodded. "Okay." Yeah, that was a good idea. Maybe he'd find 2 there too.


	2. Denial

Disclaimer: Howdy. I don't own 9, and I never have. =salutes-

'You're hurt." 1 said blankly as 7 hobbled into the throne room, steadying herself on her spear. "Obviously." She retorted back at him, her voice dripping with poison. "Now why did you want to see me?"

He leaned forward, as if studying her. "As you very well know, it seems your fellow housemates have been pairing off."

She held up her hand for him to stop which made him narrow his eyes at her and clench is jaw tightly. "I already know what you're going to say. I got it. And the answer is still no."

He fell silent for a moment before asking: "Do you consider yourself to be the alpha female?"

She stared at him as if he were incredibly stupid, doing air quotes on the words 'alpha' and 'female'. "I'm the _only_ female. So obviously I would be the 'alpha female' by default." There was a hint of sarcastic amusement in her voice.

"Therefore, it's only rational that the alpha female pairs off with the alpha male, or in this case, me." He said, his voice with an air of superiority to it.

She groaned in exasperation and tried to move away from the throne. "No means no, 1."

He, in one surprisingly deft movement, hooked his staff around her waist, causing her to fall back and sit down on the steps.

"Let me go!" She growled, or at least tried to, not wanting it to come out sounding like a whine, which it did.

He stepped closer, mincingly, his hands still tightly gripping the staff that held her still. "I will only let you go when you agree to be with me."

She let out a short barking laugh despite the pain she was in as she gripped her injured leg tightly. "Ha! That'll be the day."

He pulled on the staff, drawing her slightly closer, tugging, hand over hand, the rounded part of the staff closer to him so she had no choice but to be near him.

"You have no say in the matter." He shook his fist at her. "I will have you eventually, whether you like it or not."

She struggled against him, her voice oddly quiet. "You have no power over me! I can leave. Like last time."

He held up one finger. "Ah, but you won't. I see the way you look at me. You get a fire in your eyes that you never have when you fight or even talk to anyone else."

She fell silent, wondering if what he said was true. He continued:

"You also often seek me out just to argue." he waved his finger at every word, adding emphasis as he repeated himself. "Just. To. Argue."

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it because she found she had nothing to say in retaliation. He went on. "You asked 2 about it. About what your conflicting feelings meant. He told me you did. He tells me everything. He doesn't mean to, of course, but he can't help it, that's the way he is."

He put his face close to hers, a knowing smile on his face. "You care about me more than you'd like to admit, I know it."

"No. I don't." She spat at him, her eyes staring into his unflinchingly, her face an emotionless mask.

He put a hand to her cheek and she closed her eyes at the contact, shuddering a little. There was nothing she could do to stop him. The fabric of her face was hot to the touch. His usually sharp probing fingertips lightly traced her features, the stitches on her face.

"Don't you see? You relish my touch. Revel in arguments with me. You must admit it. You're in love with me." His voice was soft but still had a touch of condescending superiority to it. She didn't respond.

In an instant, his hand left her face and he was back to his cold insensitive self. "How did you hurt yourself?" he spoke almost without emotion except for one small trace of scorn.

"It doesn't concern you." She snapped, running a hand gingerly across the tear down her leg, turning away from him to face her injury.

"Yes. It does." He said back, angrily, cupping her chin with his hand, making her face him. "I am your leader and it is my job, my _responsibility, to keep everyone safe." _

_Her mouth curved into a frown and she closed her eyes but she made no move to wrench her head from his grip. He was touching her and she was letting him. She was letting him and it made her feel warm, it made her feel… good, even. _

"_I can take care of myself." She insisted as she wrapped her fingers tightly around his wrist where his hand held her head. _

"_It seems not." he replied, gesturing to her injured leg with his other hand. Her eyes snapped open and her brow furrowed. He knew he had gotten to her._

_She tightened her grip on his wrist and pulled his hand off of her. Fuming, she couldn't get the words she was trying to say out. "1, you're a.." _

_1 smirked, his hand curling into a loose fist in her grip before he pulled away. "A what?" _

_She wanted to punch him, to do anything to shut him up. She was going to hit him but if she did, she knew he'd do something twice as horrible to her. But she had to do something. Something he would never expect or have a planned retaliation for. "Shut up, 1! Just shut up!" Her mind racing, she yelled, her hands balled into fists._

_He crossed his arms, a sneer on his face. 'Or what? You'll come at me with your spear but back out before actually doing damage, only to run away?" _

"_No!" She exclaimed. "I'll.. I'll…" She grabbed his head, pulling his face down near hers and kissed him on the lips. His eyes went as wide as they could go and then went narrow to tiny slits. She was satisfied that he finally was quiet._

_It felt to her, so good, surprisingly. His lips were worn and tasted metallic. There was a faint fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach as her hands lingered on his face. Her eyes were closed tight. Against her better judgment, she felt herself relax into the kiss._

_He didn't know what had possessed her to do what she did but he liked it. She tasted like nothing he had ever felt. Like smoke from a fire and rain and it was like nothing he had ever experienced. _

_When they pulled apart, she seemed to be in shock, a million thoughts running through her head. _

_All he did was clear his throat and wave his hand dismissively. "My point exactly. Case closed. You're in love with me." _

_She shot him a withering look and got to her feet unsteadily, limping. "I do not." was all she said as she slipped past him. He smirked at her slowly receding form. "Denial."_

_AN: Holy crap, 1 is acting like some weird jareth-frollo combo stuff. XD Like a creeper, jeez. I just realized how bad it was when I reread it while typing.. XD also, this is suspiciously similar to an in-progress Hellsing ExI fic I'm working on. Except that one involves what could be considered 'glove rape'. For those who are familiar with whelt from you tube's frollo goes to hell series, or anyone familiar with the hunchback of Notre dame song 'hellfire, should understand what 'scarf rape' is. This is similar to that. Except it's hot cause the glove is still on said person. XD Shut up, don't judge me. XD_


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